The Tainted Flower of House Baratheon
by HomoSocks
Summary: What if, Tyrion sailed to Dorne? What if, the war between the two Baratheon siblings ensued? What if, Myrcella sat on the Iron Throne? [Queen Myrcella AU!]
1. Chapter 1

_**The Tainted Flower**_

_**Chapter** **I**_

Myrcella was on the beach again. It was dark. As dark as it got. The moon was completely covered by the black clouds above in the starless sky. A cold sea breeze cut through Myrcella like a dagger. She still had her ear. That hideous scar was absent too. She took slow steps. Afraid that the next might drop her down some deep dark hole in the sand. Causing her to free fall into one of the seven hells. She had sinned. She had sinned to gain her Iron Throne. But, with each step she found no gaping holes in the earth. Only soft sand that squished beneath her feet, invading between her toes. She grew more confident with each step. Myrcella's glorious green gown whipped behind her catching the strong wind.

Myrcella heard children laugh in the distance. Though, when she turned her head no one was there. The winds got stronger. The gust of winds carried whispers. Whispers from the past. Just like they always did. "_Tommen stop that tickles!"_ A girl laughed innocently. Myrcella didn't know who that girl was anymore. She was slain a long time ago by Gerold Dayne. The traitorous half-wit. The winds whipped again bringing forth more whispers.

_"Joffrey will I be your Queen?"_

"_No. Targaryens married brother to sister. We are Baratheons."_

_"Ours is the fury."_

A shadow moved past her now. It was quick. As it always was. Myrcella turned watching the large dark blob glide along the shoreline. Myrcella chased after it. As she always did. Yelling after it._ "No! Wait! Come back!"_ The sand underneath her started to form into hands. Trying to grab her. Drag her down. Tearing at her gown. Scratching at her legs. Myrcella's ear started bleeding. Leaking and leaking until it fell off. A gash in her cheek opened up bleeding as well. Fresh tears filled her eyes. She ran. She ran as fast as she could. The shadow at the end of the beach held out a war hammer. Myrcella starting to sink into the sand. The earth was swallowing her up. Drowning out her last cries.

_"Father! Father!"_

She was being shaken awake. Her green eyes snapped open darting back and forth. Myrcella sat up in her bed. Ser Jamie had awaken her up. Her sweet uncle. "You shake me like that again, i'll take your last hand, Kingslayer." She sneered. She watched his face closely to see him wince. Whether it was the name or, the threat that made him wince she didn't know. She just liked to see him squirm. "What is the meaning of this?" Myrcella inquired. _This better be good._

"The small council is meeting, your Grace."

"Why is the small council meeting at this hour?" Myrcella pressed on narrowing her beautiful emerald eyes.

"The Stark girl put Crakenhall to the torch."

"She grows bolder then. Crakenhall is close to Casterly Rock. We should have her within the fortnight." Jamie opened his mouth to speak but, Myrcella cut him off. "Maybe, not in the fortnight. We'll take her at some time no matter. Leave me to dress, Ser." Jamie bowed taking his leave. Myrcella covered her face in her palms. Her head was beginning to ache. Myrcella remembered the Stark girl. She was dirty. Wild. Wolf blooded. She was no better than a savage. Her beast nearly ripped Joff to pieces. But, that was eight years ago. It felt like eighty years ago. It had been six years since she had gained the throne. Myrcella was sixteen now. A woman grown. Queen of the Andals and the First Men. Protector of the Realm. The ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. They had conquered. Conquering had it's price though...

Sliding from the bed she dressed herself. Slipping into a fine silk dress. It was golden slashed with the crimson of Lannister. She donned her golden crown. Small stag antlers poking up in the center. Red rubies rounded the whole thing. It rested easy on her head. Her golden hair tumbled past her shoulders. She examined herself in the mirror. She had all of Cersei's beauty. All of Jamie's fierceness. All of Tyrion's cunning. She pressed her full lips together firmly in a frown. One of her ears was completely gone. Myrcella used her hair to curtain it at court. Myrcella also had a scar from where her ear once was down to the side of her jaw. Darkstar had cut down to the bone. Most of the skin had regrown. It was still an ugly scar. Myrcella was once said to be the most innocent girl in any of the noble families. She had lost her innocent in one moment. When, Gerold Dayne swung that sword. What little innocence she had left after the attempt on her life she lost fighting her brother Tommen for the throne.

Myrcella didn't wear any shoes on her way to the council chamber. She preferred to walk barefoot. She often took her shoes off while sitting on the Iron Throne as well. While, it might be considered unladylike or, maybe even a sexual suggestive gesture as the High Septon tried to warn her of. Myrcella didn't care. She was queen. Her comfort on that ugly throne was more paramount than some stupid lords problem. This Stark girl though. She was the real problem.

"Looking as radiant as ever, your Grace." The imp appeared out of nowhere. Her Hand had a knack for that. Being so small it was no surprise his sudden appearances could be so... Surprising.

"Careful, Uncle. You helped me win my throne. I'm grateful. However. You'd do good to remember your head could still be taken off at my whim."

"The overwhelming evidence cleared my name."

"Mother still believes you're guilty."

"Mother was never very clever."

"Fair enough." Myrcella allowed. They entered the council chambers together. Myrcella took her seat at the head of the table. She scanned over her Small Council. Tyrion Lannister, the Hand of the Queen. Jamie Lannister, Lord Commander of the Kings Guard. Kevan Lannister, the Master of Coin and Master of Laws. Varys, the Master of Whispers. Asha Greyjoy, the Master of Ships. And, the new Grand Maester.

"Arya Stark-" Varys began but, Myrcella cut him off harshly.

"I want her dead. Is that plain enough to understand?" Arya was the only real threat to her reign. To her life. Myrcella didn't intent on dying any time in the near future. Myrcella tilted her head. "What do you thing the North will do if, they find out their dear Arya Stark is alive and fighting? Do you think the North has forgotten the treasury at the Red Wedding?"

"It was for the good of the realm." Kevan Lannister spoke up.

"Treasury all the same." Myrcella glared at her council. "I will not allow another rebellion. The throne needs to be secured once and for all. If, you hear any hint of rebellion from the North we will strike first. We will strike fast. We will strike hard. We will remind them what happens when they march on the South."

"Her grace is wise." Asha Greyjoy spoke with a thin lipped smirk. "I could have a fleet ready whenever you desire." Myrcella scoffed loudly, rudely even. She gave Asha a skeptical look.

"The Ironborn has sailed on the North twice. They have been crushed twice."

"We were outnumbered twice."

"You were stupid twice."

Asha nodded then. "It may have been folly." Asha granted. "We proved we could hurt them."

"If, this rebellion were to occur..." Tyrion began then. "We could send a Ironborn fleet into the North. They were hurt them. Occupy them until the Southern troops arrive. We'd put them down like a wounded animal." Myrcella thought on that for a moment pursing her lips to the side. She nodded her own head in agreement.

"Only if, worst comes to worst. Regardless. This Stark girl is still a threat." Myrcella got to her feet. He council followed rising. "I'd rather put down one rogue wolf than, the whole North. We're done here." Myrcella turned moving from the chamber. She had the clanking of armor behind her. A gloved hand caught her shoulder sending a shiver down her spine just like the wind in her dreams. She ripped herself away from the hands grasp.

"Myrcella." Jamie Lannister began. Myrcella didn't bother to turn to look at him.

"Don't touch me."

With that she left him there in the dark corridor.

_I want to be alone._

**Writers ****Note**

So. I was disappointed with the amount of Myrcella stories around here! And, the stories I have read her in she is so bland, cardboard, and lifeless. One dimensional. I've done a bunch of reading and stuff on Myrcella through the years. I always thought if, she had the chance to grow old she could be so interesting. I'm no GRRM but, this is my attempt on making an actual three dimensional Myrcella adaptation. With plenty of depth and character development. You haven't seen anything yet~ Review, review, review. This is my third story I have in progress. The more reviews and follows I get for them the more i'll write them.

Love, your friend and humble writer.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter II  
_**

* * *

Myrcella made her way across the Red Keep silently. No one ever dared bother her. She marched passed everyone, they spread apart for her. _Good. The herd of sheep should fear the lioness. _Myrcella was the golden stag that claimed her birthright. The lioness who's roar shook the boyking from the throne. But, that boyking was her brother. Her blood. Tommen was not fit for war. His heart was that of a gentle boy. An innocent caught up in the madness. He never should have sat on the throne. All that resulted in was Cersei ruling in his stead. Thrusting the crown into more debt. Causing more problems between House Tyrell and Lannister. Not to mention the whole High Septon debacle. They had beheaded the old High Septon after Myrcella had taken the city. Appointed a new one. But, the new was not much better than the old. Religion in general was an outdated concept to her anyway. She was queen. Myrcella was ushering in the new world. _These aren't the days of Baelor the Blessed. Not anymore. He was more like Baelor the befuddled._

Myrcella climbed stone steps up a high tower. At the top was one of the most lavished chambers in all of the Red Keep. Even, more so than her own. Loras Tyrell was guarding the door. "Wait at the bottom of the stairs, Ser." Loras bowed doing as he was told. Myrcella slowly opened the huge oak door. A cat hissed running passed her out the door. There were several other cats and kittens around the room. It smelled horrible. The droppings of the useless animals were everywhere. Myrcella watched her step as she moved deeper into the room. Grateful, she remembered to wear a short dress so she didn't have it dragging on the floor.

"Tommen?" She said softly. Green eyes scanning the room for her younger brother. He was just about four-and-ten now. Two years younger than Myrcella. "Tommen? My sweet? Come out."

"Myrcella?" Tommen was hiding under his bed. He crawled out for under it clutching a kitten to his chest. "I thought you were, Ser Osmund. I thought he was going to take some of my kittens away again." Tommen's once beautiful golden hair had gone white. Some of it had fallen out. The last time Myrcella visited there had been clumps of his white hair all over. Myrcella smiled sadly walking over to her brother. Gentle she took the small kitten from his arms.

"Shhh... Just put it down for now. Let me look on you." She let the kitten scurry back onto the marble floor. Myrcella stroked Tommen's cheek lightly. He was filthy. He was always filthy when she came to see him. Tommen wouldn't let his servants bathe him very often. He would scream, scratch, and cry. Talking madness of treason and beheading them. It took Osmund Kettleblack to hold him down while his maids scrubbed his dirty skin most of the time. Myrcella's dress was dirtying by just kneeling on the floor beside him. But, she didn't care at this point. When, she looked into his pale light-less emerald eyes nothing else mattered. Tommen was blinded during the sack of the city. Myrcella ordered her troops to bring her Tommen alive. When, they found Tommen it was chaos. Cersei screamed and clawed. Tommen cried and squirmed. Someone had hit Tommen with the hilt of their sword to stop him from fighting. The blow had ruined Tommen's eyes. Myrcella had the eyes of the man responsible removed. That helped little though.

"You look so handsome." _He looks like an old man. He's four-and-ten yet, he looks like an old man._ Tommen smiled a weak tired smile.

"Really?"

"Of course, Tommen. My sweet Tommen." Myrcella got up she pulled Tommen up as well. Laying him on the bed she hopped up behind him. Resting his head gently on her lap. Her slender fingers running through his snow white hair. Myrcella licked her lips. The throne came with a price. She had gained everything. Yet, she had broken everything too. "I'm sorry, Tommen."

"For what?" He said confused. His round face scrunching up while he stared without seeing at the ceiling above him. "Are you in trouble, sister?"

"No." Her fingertips dance along his scalp. She was like a lioness with her cub. Trying to shield him for the horrors of the world. "You rest easy, love. I'm going to take care of everything."

"I love you, Myrcella."

Myrcella descended the steps of the tower. She found Ser Loras Tyrell and Ser Osmund Kettleblack two members of the Queens Guard at the bottom. She moved passed them them with her chin held high. "Ser Osmund stay. See our little King bathes. Ser Loras walk with me." They did as they were told. Loras hurried to catch up to Myrcella. She glanced at him while adjusting the crown on her head. "Your flower of a sister hardly ever visits her little husband." Loras' eyes widened as he fiddled with his fingers. "Tommen goes mad in a tower and his wife is off fucking other men in Highgarden. I could have her head."

"As is your right." Loras said weakly looking warily at the queen.

"How does being Lord Commander of the Queens Guard suit you, Ser?"

"Is this some sort of jape?" Myrcella had to snicker at that giving Loras a dismissive wave of the hand.

"Merely, a suggestion." She stated with a shrug. "My Uncle. Given his... Situation. I don't feel he is fit to guard Tommen's kittens let alone the Queen." Myrcella continued bluntly. Loras looked at her quirking a brow. Myrcella curved her lips into a satisfied smirk. "My mother was intent on making our houses enemies. I believe we should change that. Though, your sister has disrespected my family for too long. She must be punished."

"If, you think I would take this reward for turning a blind eye to my sisters beheading-"

"I don't mean to have her head on a spike. Only a public shaming. She deserves that much for her... Treason." Myrella licked her lips continuing. "Taking her head would only cause Highgarden to become a powerful enemy. An enemy I can't afford to have. Possibly, a rebellion. I am trying to avoid rebellions if, you have been too dull to notice. I have also considered making your perversion punishable by death." She saw Loras shudder out of the corner of her eye. That made her smirk wider. "You make it too obvious, Ser. Still. That wouldn't help my cause either. I want you to think on what i've said. I want your answer within the fortnight or, i'll turn to Ser Osmund."

Myrcella left him like that. She was off to her next piece of business. She didn't bother changing her soiled dress. Her next stop was more disgusting than the last. Ser Ilyn Payne's quarters were horrifying. Overflowing chamber pots. Half eaten food that looked as if, it had been there years. This was no place for a queen. Ser Ilyn saw Myrcella and stared for a moment before remembering to kneel on his dank stone floor. "Rise. Come."

"We are both maimed creatures are we not?" Myrcella asked pulling back her curtain of golden hair to reveal the ear-less side of her head. The deep scar ran down over her cheek to her jawline. "Your tongue. My ear. My innocence."Ser Ilyn made a clacking sound that Myrcella came to know as his tongueless laugh. "Yes. It is quite funny isn't it. The traitor who did this to me is still on run somewhere. But, you can sleep easier knowing the Mad King is rotting in the ground." It didn't look like Ser Ilyn slept at all. He had huge bags under his eyes. "I need a favor. Can you do this?" Ser Ilyn nodded.

"I know you won't tell a soul."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter III  
**_

* * *

"You jest?"

"No, no. I'm being genuine. Pray with me, Myrcella. It might do you some good!" Lancel Lannister insisted again. Myrcella stood there a bit taken aback. Lancel had been an especially annoying pest as of late. Obviously, the High Septon's little spy. They must have thought she was a fool to think she couldn't see it. Lancel's attempts to slither into her trusted council as of late have been growing tiring. Myrcella folded her arms over her chest staring at him, watching his wandering eyes. Curious how a man so religious could lust after his queen not only that, his cousin's daughter. The weasel looking man was once her fathers servant. That brought a smile about her pink lips. Lancel smiled back at her hopefully.

"Praying interests me not." Myrcella watched the hopeful smile turn into a look of disappointment. She wanted to upset the weak man more. Myrcella remembered the way Robert Baratheon yelled at the boy. It often made Myrcella giggle, Robert always smiled at her when she giggle. That always made her feel... Good. "You were a cup bearer for my father once, were you?"

"Ser Jamie?" The words slipped out of Lancel's mouth quickly. His green eyes widening realizing his folly. The look of pure terror washed over his features, his face turning pale. "I mean... I... I..." Myrcella slapped his face as hard as she could leaving behind a red hand print on his cheek. Lancel held his cheek nearly squealing like a poor maiden when Myrcella slapped him. "Mercy..." He whined. "I beg her Grace's mercy."

"Look at me." She commanded. Her green eyes all wildfire smoldering his weak ones. Lancel was shaking like a leave in fear of what the Queen might do to him. "You will live." Lancel sighed in relief lowering his eyes from her. Myrcella caught his chin roughly to make him look at her once more. "Only because, your name is Lannister. If, I hear that filthy lie out of your mouth ever again your name will not save you." She pushed him away by the face, glaring. "I have a kingdom to rule. Leave me."

Myrcella was on her ugly Iron Throne now. It was uncomfortable, when she was younger she always wanted a cushion for it. Tyrion had council her against it. A cushion would just may her look like some sort of weak woman, she would never be respected like that. _A ruler should never sit easy. _Myrcella was already in a bad mood when she had entered her court. She was in a even worst mood after hearing some foolish lords along with a pair of beggars. Myrcella had just about had it when a singer came to play for her. He plucked at the strings of his instrument beginning to sing. He didn't have a particularly good voice if he meant to make that up with his lyrics he failed miserably.

_"My queen, my queen. My fair queen._

_Fierce as a lion, graceful as a stag._

_Better than the kings. We wish we never had._

_My fair queen. Just and gentle._

_I'd ask for your hand. Alas, I know you'd never settle._

_My queen, my queen. My fair queen._

_I thirst for for your maidenhead._

_Alas, I wouldn't be the first."_

There were gasps from the court as the song came to it's end. Myrcella remained blank faced not letting any of her emotions show as per usual. No one knew quite what she was thinking when she was on the throne. Her legs were crossed, her bare foot dangling just above the ground her other planted firmly on the marble. She had even gotten a servant next to her some time ago for the sole task of holding her shoes. The side of Myrcella's mouth curved into a half smirk. When, the court saw that the appalled gasped turned into clapping. _Sheep._ She thought satisfied.

"This is where I swoon?" Myrcella asked quirking a brow leaning back into her throne holding her head high. The singer licked his lips bowing.

"If, her Grace would be so kind."

Myrcella held back a scoff. Taking a moment consider what should become of this singer. "You've amused me." She said keeping that half smirk on her face that looked so much like Jamie Lannister's.

"Your Grace is too kind. I... Would wish to amuse her Grace more in the future."

"Oh, you shall." Myrcella's emerald eyes turned to her Queens Guard. "Ser Osmund could you be so kind as to bring me our singers tongue." The singer attempted to flee immediately he was caught by a spectator. He was held there in place while Ser Osmund Kettleblack approached with his own _instruments. _The singer had the time to beg, just for Myrcella's amusement.

"Please! Your Grace! Mercy! I beg of you!" Were his last words before the blade cut through his tongue. Blood puddled onto the marble floor from the fountain of red his mouth had become. Ser Osmund brought the trophy to her. She held the tongue between her long thin fingers staining them with blood. After a moment she handed it back to Ser Osmund.

"A dirty thing. I've changed my mind. Give him back his tongue. I don't want it anymore." Myrcella stood up from her throne taking the shoes from her holder she turned to the court. "I am done for today." She told them curtly. They wasted no time to bow to her. She smiled like a queen. _Sheep. _"Kingslayer. See me to my king." Jamie led her through the door behind the throne. He was silent for most of the walk, Myrcella would glance over at him from time to time. Looking over his golden hair, his eyes, the shape of his nose and lips. She snapped out of it after a moment. _Lies. Filthy lies. Started by Northers during the war to thrust Joffrey from his throne. Filthy lies._

When, they got outside her kings chambers Jamie bowed turning to take his leave without a word. Myrcella stopped him. "Kingslayer." He turned to look at her again. "Come here." He did as he was told. Myrcella squinted at him. Moving her slender fingers to dance through his golden hair. _The golden lion of Lannister. Old. Crippled. And, soon former Lord Commander of the Queens Guard._

"Myrcella-"

"My mother loves you?"

"I would hope so."

"You love her?" Before Jamie could answer Myrcella asked another question. "Did she love my father?" Jamie froze then. Looking down into her emerald eyes. His mouth hanging open slightly. _Filthy lies. _Myrcella took off her crown handing it to Jamie. "Take this to my chambers, Ser. I won't be needing it until the morrow." Jamie took it, bow slightly and took his leave.

When, he was out of sight Myrcella entered the room to see her king. The giant lion paced around behind big iron bars. She watched it for a bit, taking a seat in front of the bars. Then, looked down at her bloodstained fingers. Sighing she poured some wine. That led to some more. And, some more. She drank and drank and drank. The lion behind the bars paced and growled from time to time. A giant lion, a golden lion, her king. Her green eyes met it's golden ones.

_I'm a lion too. _


	4. Chapter 4

**_Chapter IV  
_**

* * *

She dreamed again that terrible nightmare on the beach with the wind and the whispers. Her fathers shadow off in the distance over her holding out his mighty warhammer for her to take. The sand always swallowed her up before she could get to it, devouring her alive until everything melted away. Myrcella jolted awake her king was roaring behind his huge iron bars, servants had brought in meat for the beast.

Her head ached greatly she gingerly attempted to sit up in her big leather chair Myrcella had curled up in last night. She groaned the light in the room hurting her eyes, any sound hurting her one ear. Myrcella got up storming from the room patting across the stone floor quickly. She wanted to get to her bed chambers summon her bedmaid Alayne and sleep all day. But, she knew she had to dress for court she had left early yesterday after she had gotten into a sour mood. Now, she felt as though she was in an even more dangerous mood than the day before.

"You look lovely, Myrcella." Her imp uncle said walking up beside her on her way back to her chambers. Myrcella gave him a false smile. "How kind of you to say so, little uncle." Tyrion shot back some sarcasm bringing a hand to his heart opening his ugly mouth as if, he had been greatly insulted.

"Your words wound me, your Grace."

"Good." She told him making her foul mood clear to him. Still, though he persisted. The little man was always testing her patience, small wonder Joff could not stand him as Hand. Luckily, Myrcella had a great deal more patience than her brother. Some days she thought Tyrion's big head would look better on a spike somewhere even so.

"I heard of the incident at court yesterday. I seem to recall a eerily similar event taking place when your older brother sat the throne." The half-man was really pushing his luck. She watched him scratch his nose stump narrowing her eyes.

"If, you mean to speak ill of my brother in front of me i'll have your tongue too." She remembered her brother. Not a lot. But enough. The way his blonde locks tumbled over his shoulders, his inviting green eyes, charming smile. Joffrey had an ability to make her laugh her she was a child. The last time she saw her brother was eight years ago the day she set sail for Dorne. The septons said their useless prayers. Her mother wept. Joffrey just nodded at her a firm stern nod. _Be brave. Be proud. Yours is the fury. _She had told herself. Yet, she still wept. "He was a king."

"That he was, your Grace." Tyrion allowed. She didn't like his tone unfortunately the Hand needed a tongue else she would have it out.

"Tell me of Arianne Martell? How far away is she from the capital?"Myrcella asked her Hand.

"She is only about a fortnight away if, it please you." It didn't. Myrcella wanted her Dornish Princess now. The roads were not safe with that Stark savage out there. Myrcella licked her lips and nodded. "Your mother rode in today though." _Mother? _Myrcella's face scrunched up in confusion her green eyes looking down below at her uncle.

"Why isn't she in Casterly Rock? Where she belongs?" Myrcella asked coldly. Tyrion shrugged.

"You best ask her."

When, Myrcella got to her bedchambers Alayne Stone helped her dress for court. The Queen pitied the girl in a way that is why she allowed the traitors bastard daughter to serve her. Myrcella took her fathers head for his crimes against the crown which were many. But, most of all was his involvement in the Purple Wedding. Myrcella dressed in a gown draped in Baratheon gold and black. The end of it was so long three of her handmaidens had to keep it from dragging on the floor. There was a golden crowned stag embezzled into the side of it. Myrcella smiled at Alayne as she placed the crown lightly onto Myrcella's golden head. Myrcella reached out to run a hand threw her shiny brown hair.

"You are a beautiful girl, Alayne." The Queen told her with a smile. "I can't really believe you came for Littlefinger." She leaned forward giving the bastard girl a soft kiss on the lips to which Alayne smiled shyly.

"Thank you, your Grace."

Finally, Myrcella was back on her terribly uncomfortable throne. She heard petty lords and lowborn alike. All had some ridiculous request or, complaints. She hated hearing these people out when there were so many more greater problems she had to deal with. Myrcella often found herself day dreaming in the throne while the sheep below her talked. She thought about the Stark girl out there somewhere, she thought about her father, her thoughts even traveled to Prince Rhaegar and the Targaryen reign.

_Rubies had fell from the dying Prince's armor when my father caved his chest in. _Myrcella recalled resting her chin on her opened palm adjusting in the throne. _Warriors do not wear rubies. Rhaegar had a gentle heart. He was half a woman and father crushed him. _Sometimes, Myrcella had wished she was born a male. She dreamed of becoming a great knight with the mighty warhammer her father wielded before her. Yet, she knew it was not to be. The last Targaryen girl was slain in Meereen. _Good. The girl was not fit to rule slaves let alone Seven Kingdoms._ The girl that was foolish, Myrcella was much more cunning she liked to think.

"Your Grace?"

Myrcella snapped out of her daydreams looking down at Jamie Lannister her current Lord Commander of the Queens Guard. Her emerald eyes ran over him suddenly the very sight of him made her sick. She pressed her full lips together in a thin line. "I'm listening, Ser." She told him straightening back up in her throne. "Your mother request your presence, your Grace." Jame told her before adding. "Shall I take you to her."

"No." Myrcella stated bluntly rising from the Iron Throne looking out a upon her subjects. "We are done for today. Ser Loras, walk with me." Turning on her heels they exited threw the door behind the throne a smirk formed on Myrcella's lips looking over at Loras Tyrell. "Have you thought on what i've said?" She asked him after a moment. Loras nodded.

"I have."

"Please tell me I don't have to turn to Ser Osmund Kettleblack."

"You won't my Queen. As long as you give me your word no harm befalls my sister." Myrcella scoffed rolling her eyes. _A Lannister always pays her debts._ She almost said. But, it fell like a dirty thing to say... Her hand smooth over the golden stag on the side of her gown. _Mine is the fury. _

"She will be punished justly. I promise you her life. I will not have her killed." She told the new Lord Commander he looked relieved. Myrcella smiled again. "You serve me faithfully, Ser Loras. It doesn't go unnoticed." She moved to walk ahead now, it seemed all of her plans were turning out just as she wanted. Which was a relieve to her. Myrcella got to her mother's chambers after a walk across the Red Keep she told Loras to stay before entering the room to face her. Truth be told she wasn't terribly fond of her mother. Things just hadn't been the same since the day she sailed for Dorne. Grew older to understand her mother's many follies. _You were never as clever as you thought mother._

"Mother." Myrcella shot her a cold look making it clear she was not welcome here now. Strolling over to a table Myrcella filled a glass with wine taking a sip of it. Myrcella arched a brow at Cersei before raising the glass to her pink lips. Her mother was starting to wrinkle and grey. Her age was finally showing after all these years. "Shouldn't you be in Casterly Rock?"

"I am of no use there. Your great uncle Kevan made that clear." Kevan Lannister was the Lord of Casterly Rock for now. If, he were to die it would pass to Tyrion, Myrcella made it clear Lancel would never touch the Rock. Tyrion thirsted for it she knew. He'd need to wait a little while longer she had use for him here now in Kings Landing as her Hand. Cersei though. Myrcella had no use for Cersei and seated her as far away from power as she could. Cersei with power was like a child playing with wildfire, she had made that clear during Tommen's reign. Now, Cersei was just pathetic. Myrcella wanted to pity her mother though she didn't allow herself. She needed to go numb inside to do her job. Now, she understood why so many rulers went mad. _They go dead inside until it's all they know. _

"A pity I have no use for you either." Myrcella told her taking a seat into a chair full of cushions which was a mercy after hours in the Iron Throne. Myrcella's eyes scanned her mother with a bored stare. "Why are you here?"

"I just wanted to see you-"

"Why?"

"I just... I heard of this Stark girl from Kevan. I believe I can council you. I know I can council you better than that wretched little creature." Myrcella nearly laughed in her face. _Council? _Myrcella would sooner seek council from one of those terrible trees the northman pray to. Myrcella shook her head downing the rest of the wine that remained in her cup before filling it with more.

"Mother I trust Tyrion's council with my life." She half-smiled raising her cup to her lips. "It beat you." She took a sip from the copper cup watching Cersei's face flush red as her anger boiled up.

"Joffrey trusted Tyrion with his life as well."

"I will not go over this again, mother." Myrcella rolled her emerald eyes. Cersei gave her a sad smile almost accepting all was lost. There was silent then. A long silent. They sat there for what seemed like hours. They drank, stared out the windows at the blue sky, lounged in their seats. But, never spoke. Myrcella sighed a tired sigh wondering to herself.

_Will she slip into Jamie Lannister's blankets tonight?_


End file.
